Dela Veela, PI
by E-Loveless
Summary: My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all? I saw them die, days before it happened. Will change to M later. Gory/romance.
1. Chapter 1

Summary

My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all?  
I saw them die, days before it happened.

* * *

* Hi, FortuneTeller here. The characters in this story are all mine, but I'm using the world and laws that belong to the Anita Blake series and author Laurell K. Hamilton.

Disclaimer::: The world and laws belong to Laurell K. Hamilton The characters (Dela, Carolyn, Nick, Advent, etc...) belong to me.

* * *

Chapter One

_A ship was docked at the harbor, dim lanterns swung in the easy deep rythm of the waves. In the window, there were shadows dancing around in the form of a man and a woman, arms waving, angrily gesturing in the air. The sound of a bottle crashing blared through the night like the shattering of a window with a baseball bat.  
A woman's voice sobbed through the stillness of the air; then a door slammed somewhere inside the vessel._

__

Near-by a man crossed the street linking the wooden docks to the empty shops lined in a row . He had the appearance and stride of a middle-aged man, mousy brown visible due to a flickering street light. He stopped at the side of a hardware store, leaning his crooked back against the hard red brick. His hands fiddled nervously with the handle of a worn leather breif case and sweat gleamed on his forehead. He pulled a handkercheif from the pocket of his trench coat, wiping his brow.

A sleek black Lamborguini rolled down the cobble-stone, purring with the drowsy tone of a sleeping cat. The trench coat man straightened up, swallowed noticebly, and walked toward the vehicle. The window rolled down, but the driver was cast in shadow. They conversed, the driver and the trench coat, and after a few minutes seemed to reach an understanding. Trench coat handed the man his breif case hesitantly through the window, glancing around the street nervously. A gloved left hand could be seen reaching out of the car, a red ruby glistened on his ring-finger. The white cuff of an expensive looking suit peeked into the dull yellow glow of the street light.

_A nervous smile crossed Trench coat's face, his eyes becoming confused as the window rolled up, the windows impenetribly dark. The back doors of the Lambo opened up smoothly, two impossibly tall beefy men slinked out, with all the grace of two hungry panthers. Trench coat reeled back, panic tightening his face. His mouth opened, wordlessly spluttering as the men advanced on him._

The closest one had dark hair reaching his shoulders, while his partner had cropped white blonde hair that barely touched the tip of his ears. Both wore dark muscle t's coupled with tight black jeans and a pair of black combat boots. The dark haired one reached toward the trench coated man, grabbing the sides of his face and twisting violently, snapped the man's neck. The two then began to rip the man to shreds, easily pulling apart and ripping into the man's limbs as if he were a child's toy. Blood splattered the streetand brick wall, creating a gruesome bright red arc on the hardware shop's window.

The Lambourgini's window rolled down again, the slim gloved hand beckoning to the two giants. The blonde halted his mutilation of a leg, stepping into the street light. His lumbering hands dripped thickly with blood. His mouth was a scene straight from hell, jagged sharp fangs prominently sticking out from his lips. He reached toward the window, grasping something from the gloved hand. The ruby ring caught a ray of light, sparkiling brightly like the drying blood plastered against the shop windows.

The dark haired man had finished shredding the once human being into a meat pile, looking up toward the blonde with a wild look in his eye, face shiny with dead man's blood. The blonde's hands opened to reveil matches, quickly ripped one open, and set the mass on fire. As if entranced, they watched it burn, their nostrils flaring, breathing in the smoke.

A hiss sliced through the night like a knife, causing the two monsters to whip their heads towards the car. The hand beckoned them again, and they were suddenly by the car once more, moving impossibly fast. Opening the back doors of the car, the two slunk into the backseat, the only sounds in the midnight air were the squelching of their boots and the flickering of the pire. The car drove down the street, moving silent as death down the cobble-stone road.

I woke up gasping, drenched in sweat. My body was yanked into a sitting position by my own nerves, my eyes frantically surveying the room. The dark blue curtains were gaped open, casting light into the bedroom. My room consisted of a light blue dresser, a matching blue couch, and my large queen size bed with dark velvet blue comforter. My same old ,comforting, completely matching bedroom. I shivered in my soft green camisole, the sweat drying quickly in the cold air. I looked over to my alarm clock. 4:00 a.m.

Sighing, I got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. My complection was pale in the mirror, my dark forest green eyes stark against my normally peach-colored skin. My last ex-boyfriend had described me as pixie-like, what with my delicate nose and fine high cheekbones, and curly dark brown hair, which hung in tight ringletts around my shoulders. He didn't think I was so fragile when I flashed my Kimber Custom Raptor, which had been hiding in a shoulder holster under my shirt. Nope, he'd taken off running in the opposite direction. Pansy.

After taking a quick shower and blowdrying my hair, I crossed my bedroom floor to the dresser, pulling out a hoodie and some baggy sweatpants. Not high-fashion, but way more comfortable than a strict pants suit and high-heeled stilettos.

I surveyed the room again, an unsettling feeling creeping up my spine. Shrugging my shoulders, I walked into the living room of my apartment. The walls were a soft tan color with lights like lillies opening up toward the ceiling. A soft red mathcing couch and arm chair were strategically placed around a dark wooden coffee table, all of which matched the hard wood floor. I padded onto the tile that lead into the pristine kitchen. Granite counters, state of the art dish washer, oven,and refridgerator and dark wood cabinets completed the kitchen I never used. Well, except to make coffee. Like right now.

Having a steaming, delicious cup of hot coffee (two sugars and a dash of cream) soothed my nerves and my brain finally threw the horrifying dream back into my face.  
I have nightmares about people dying. But they're not just regular creepy nightmares. They're premonitions. As in, the people in my dreams haven't died yet. My best friend Carolyn and I started our own private detective agency to attempt to prevent these visions from becoming a reality or to solve the case and bring closure to the family of the deceased. So far we've saved over fifty victims and solved over one hundred cases. Not bad for a two year old business.

I considered calling her right now, but that thought quickly died when I looked at the clock. 5:45 is not the right time to call Carolyn. We're practically like sisters, but that doesn't mean she won't go ape on my ass for waking her up earlier than eight. Of course, her husband, Nick Van Buren, always got up at six. He was the number one brain surgeon in the state of Maine. He was also handsome, caring, and very economically conscious. Perfect for Carolyn.

I smiled, momentarilly forgetting the awful nightmare. I walked over to the window and looked out at the dark sleeping city and the Kennebec river. The city was so beautiful at night, or rather near dawn, and the river was the main reason I'd wanted to move here, no pun intended. I loved how cold the winters were, much to Carolyn's chagrin. Augusta was no where near a crime capital of the states, but we had definitely seen enough death to last a lifetime. Too bad I'd made it into a career. The world these days is so much more dangerous than our childhoods had led us to believe. Growing up, sheltered and cherished, in Tennessee had done nothing to improve my survival techniques. That is, until the fire.

Eight years ago, my family's home in the country side of Kingsport, Tennessee, had been set on fire and had burned to the ground, with my parents and brother and sister inside. I'd been 15 at the time. I couldn't remember the exact details of what had happened. The doctors had said it was smoke inhalation and shock. I'd known my memory had been tampered with. And only a few being in existence could erase memories from a human mind.

I rubbed soothing circles into my temples, feeling the beginning of a headache on its way. I'd majored in Preternatural Biology with a minor in Psychology. I'd graduated from the University of Maine with my Masters D. and loved the state so much, I couldn't leave. Carolyn was the only friend who had stood by me when I'd lost my family. For the longest time, I had stayed at her house before my grandparents came back from their honeymoon trip to Hawaii. What a horrible thing to come back to. Anyway, we both had wanted to go to UME and thats where Carolyn met Nick. Its also where I saw the real world. Monsters did not reek havoc on Augusta as it did on major cities like LA and Orlando, but there was enough evil to go around. Especially once vampirism was made legal. Stupid government. Make the monsters legal, that's smart.  
Now that the vampires were legal, it seemed like they were almost everywhere you looked. The nightlife of the town was controlled by them, not that there was much nightlife.  
Well, now there is, but only because they're out there now. There was once a time when free lance hunters could just walk into a nest and stake the beasts. Now they have to get a court order. Whats worse? They could get away with as many as 5 kills before hunters can get to the staking. 5 people, human lives! I myself am not a hunter or executioner.  
I leave that to the pro's, though I do keep whats close to an arsenal in a hidden compartment in the side of my bed, as well as a few weapons in the trunk of my black 1967 Impala.

There's nothing like a Kimbor Custom Raptor for self-defense. Coupled with silver bullets, I'm ready for vampires, lycanthropes, and any other sort of supernatural/preternatural beings. Not that I've had to use it more the three times, admittedly twice on accident. I'd had to immobilize two suspects while Carolyn led the Spook squad to the abandoned lot where we'd found two lycanthrope murderers. They'd surprised me by trying to jump me, but i accidentally shot one in the leg, the other in the arm. Carolyn and the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team (RPIT) came soon after to find me beginning to hyperventilate at the sight of blood and the lycanthropes writhing on the floor in pain. The boys never let me live it down.

I wondered back over to the kitchen, opening my empty dishwasher, and depositing my coffee cup. The clock over the stove read 7:12. I'd actually managed to waste an hour and a half thinking about the past. An all new low, even for me. If the RPIT boys knew about this one... Walking back into the bedroom, I changed into a pair of tight black jeans and a silk dark green blouse with black lace on the collar and edge. I threw my dark velvet over-coat on over the blouse and slipped on some black high-heels. Looking in the mirror, I combed my brush through my hair adding a touch of mascara, eyeliner, and blush. I then struggled to slip my favorite Kim Custom Raptor into the shoulder strap under the coat. Finally situated,I sighed, reaching over to my small silver cellphone.  
I dialed Carolyn's cell, taking my chances. The dial tone sounded 5 times before she picked up.

"Hello?" she grunted, clearly unhappy with being woken up early.

"Morning, Cara!" I said, sounding as cheerful and perky as possible, knowing it would annoy her.

"This better be good, Dela." she growled. I could hear her throw the covers off her bed and stand up. She's not her normal calm, sarcastic self till she gets her coffee. One of the many things we have in common.

"It is. We have a job." I told her about the dream while she made herself some coffee."The only problem is, the car had no license plate no names were said."

I'd made my way out of the apartment complex, waving to my early bird neighbors as they sleepily took their dogs out, and made it to the 1967 Impala. I took a moment to admire its beauty. Sleek black glossy paint with chrome lining and wheels. Smooth black leather interior, state of the art sterio system, and my favorite dream catcher with red robin feathers and black beads inscribed with ancient nordic symbols of luck and protection. Oh yeah, my baby was beautiful. "I'm headed to the office right now, but I'm gonna run by the Coffee Cabana for another cup. Want me to bring you some backup?"

"No." she answered sleepily. The sound of papers messily being shifled through could be heard in the background. "I'm going to call the Station and ask Katalina if they're any missing person reports fitting the description of the trench coat man. Hopefully, it wasn't one of those visions that happen right after you have them. I mean, the least they could do is give us a few days to figure things out."

"I know, its very frustrating sometimes." I sighed, pulling out of the apartment complex and onto the main road. The Impala purred deliciously coaxing me into revving the engine a little. I smirked to myself, proud of this car beyond expression.

"I heard that. I swear, if I get a call from you in jail one day asking for bail because you've been tricked into drag-racing some hick..." She rambled on, scolding me as she always does about how I'm too reckless, gullible, naiive, etc. I rolled my eyes, pulling into the Coffee Cabana with all the smoothness of a panther. "Hey, are you listening?! Nevermind, I know you well enough to guess you stopped listening after the word jail." she sighed.

"Not true. I stopped listening after 'hick'." I grinned, knowing she could hear it in my voice even if she couldn't see it.

The Coffee Cabana was a quaint local cafe that sold excellent coffee at a very reasonable price. The decor of this place was a comfortable homestyle southern look with the checkered red and white pattern of picnic tables on all eating surfaces. It was rare to find a restaurant up north that actually had sweet tea on the menu. Of course, their coffee was excellent as well and it reminded me of the food back in Tennessee. I crossed over the worn light wood floor toward the cashier, casually looking around the shop to see who else was here this early. An elderly sat by the window looking out onto the empty street, watching the sun rise between the old brick buildings. I smiled at them softly, wondering vaguely what it was like to have spent a lifetime with a person and still be able to look at each other as they did. I'd reached the bar now, sliding easily onto a stool, and grinning at the woman who walked toward me from behind the counter, notepad perched on her hip.

"What can I get ya, darlin'?" Maria asked, her thick southern accent so different from those of the locals it was refreshing. Her bright orange hair puffed up around a bright red hairband that matched her sunny yellow sundress which was checkered with bright little strawberries. Her flat red tennis shoes squeaked against the floor. She had bright blue eyes, a round hospital face, and smelled like apple pie.

She was a real counrty mother, born and rasied in the counrty side of Louisiana. "The usual, please, Maria." I said, relaxing against the bar, my fingers lightly tracing the inscribed writings and pictures. Customers would come in here and absently scribble things into the wood, but Maria, the propreitress, didn't care as long as there was no profanity. She'd had me writing down talleys for the number times I'd come in here for coffee. So far, I'd come here a solid 65 times over the past two years.I scribbled down another talley, making the number 66.

"You know, it's always coffee with you, Dela, darlin'. You never ask for pancakes or waffles or even apple pie! I'd be insulted if you hadn't broadcasted our restuarant to so many police men that our food is southern fried treasure." she smiled, her dimples showing. "Jeff would be too, if you weren't just so darn precious!" Maria reached over the counter, pinching my cheek.

I grimaced, rubbing my hand on the cheek in question. Then looking over her shoulder, I threw a smile at Jeff the Chef, who was watching me silently over an oven with poppong bacon on the pan. Jeff was a bear of a man with wide shoulders and a fatherly face. Chestnut colored hair sprouted from his balding head and dusted his chin. He smiled apologetically at me, ever the patient husband. Maria, the subject of most of his stress, was buising herself with making my coffee as well as giving refills to the other customers. The bell over the door chimed just as I crossed my legs over the stool and as my coffee arrived.

Maria looked over towards the door, her face brightening. "Well, look who's here. Advent Gardener." she huffed, exasperated. "Haven't seen you in weeks, boy. Been worried sick! Sheesh, you and Dela together have just got my nerves all frazzled!" she exclaimed, writing down his order as if by memory. "You'll have the usual, right, darlin'?"

"Yes, please, Maria." His voice was a smooth, sexy barritone. I knew he was going to be a looker before he even sat down. He took the stool right next to mine, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was wearing worn blue jeans with rips at the knees as well as a black leather jacket over a dark red t-shirt. Even from the side, I could tell he was ripped. His biceps bunched under the leather as he accepted a coffee cup from Maria.

"Dela, I'd like ya to meet Advent Gardener. Advent, this is Dela Veela." she said warmly, quickly walking to the otherside of the bar to a waving customer. I turned to the man seated next to me, swallowing am appreciative gasp.

He was ruggedly handsome, with glittering deep blue eyes, a strong chiseled jaw, and high cheek bones. His white winsome smile had an warmness to it that could make a nun turn beat red. Sandy blonde hair was swept back in a silky looking wave toward the back of his head, and my fingers itched to discover if it was as soft as it looked. He was lean, somehow able to look both incredibly masculine and graceful at the same time.

I smiled at him politely, offering a hand. "Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He grinned mischeiviously, his hand slipping into mine tightly. "Advent Gardener. The pleasures all mine, I assure you." I pulled my hand from his mutely, turning back to my coffee with blush I quickly stifled. I could tell he was watching me from my peripheal, but I ignored him resolutely. I'd watched a man be murdered in my dreams last night and now I'm flirting with a stranger? Admittedly, he was a very alluring stranger, but a stranger none the less. While I was berating myself, I realized I'd missed him asking a question.  
"What did you say?" I asked politely, before mentally cursing myself for answering immediately.

His deep blue eyes looked mildly interested as he opened his mouth to speak. Did I mention his lips are pure sin? "I asked if the 1967 Impala was yours."

I grinned smugly before I could stop myself, looking out the store window at my baby. Parked next to it was a vibrant 2002 red Mustange Convertible. Both cars were shiny and new looking almost identical in their chrome lining and kick ass exterior. "Is the 2002 Mustang Convertible yours?" I parried, a smile on my lips. He had been looking out at the cars as well, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. The look however didn't fade as he turned back to me, taking me in from the top of my curly dark hair to the bottom of me black heels.

A blush crept up my face before I could force it back down again, but I looked him square in the eyes. He didn't linger too long on my breasts. Point for him.  
"Yes, it is." he answered, taking a drink from his coffee, still looking at me over the rim.

"Yes, the Impala is mine." I answered simply, tugging on a curl absent mindedly. His eyes watched the curl spring back into place.

"It's a beautiful car."He replied, equally simple. His hands held the coffee cup aloft, watching me as I asked Maria for a refill.

Maria jumped in at this. "Oh, yes, it is a beauty!" she chuckled, leaning over the counter. "But not nearly as beautiful as Dela herself!"she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck, strangling me in a hug. Maria was a doting mother hen with a complex. She obssessed over anything cute. Probably the reason I was her favorite customer. It couldn't be for my witty charm and banter. Just my face.

"So adorable!" she squeaked, finally releasing me. "I could just eat you up!" Maria scampered away, fluttering toward the other customers, eyes bright.

"You alright, Dela?" Jeff asked, having come out from the kitchen. He was always trying to convince her that one of these days, she'd hug/strangle me to death.

I sighed, smiling softly. "I'm good, Jeff. It'd be a tad ironic for a hug to finally do me in, though, wouldn't it?" He seemed to turn a bit pale at that, shaking his head and walking back to the kitchen. I left a ten dollar bill with my check on the counter and slid off my chair. I heard Advent hastily do the same, waving to a suddenly dissappointed Maria, and follow me out the door.

"Wait, Dela." he called softly. I turned and looked at him. The sunlight had chosen that moment to peak through the clouds in his exact spot. It lit up the highlights in his hair and glinted off his leather jacket. I blinked to get the sudden haze out of my head his smexiness had caused.

"Yes?" I asked, leaning against the side of my Impala, my arms folded against my chest. He walked over to stand in front of me, leaning towards me. I looked up at him, figuring he was atleast a foot taller than me. I'd just barely have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.

"Here's my number, if you need anything. Just call." He said quietly placing a slip of paper into my hand, our faces inches apart. He then opened his car door and slid gracefully into the Mustang. He flipped on some black sunglasses, started the engine, and turned up the sterio.

I grinned at the song. 'Hell's Bells' by ACDC. My kind of man. He grinned back at me, pulling out easily and, revving the engine twice, rolled out onto the street.  
I looked down at the card he gave me.

_Advent Gardener P.I., psychic, empathic.  
***-555-0853_

_1645 Winchester Dr.,_

_Augusta, Maine_

I stared blankly at the card, before sighing deeply. Of course a guy whose actually my type is a psychic empathic flirt. But, then again, I dream of murder. Who am I to judge?

* * *

Hey guys, you know the drill. Please REVIEW. It really encourages authors to write more and we love the criticism.

-FortuneTeller out. :D


	2. Chapter 2

Summary

My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all?  
I saw them die, days before it happened.

_  
* Hi, FortuneTeller here. The characters in this story are all mine, but I'm using the world and laws that belong to the Anita Blake series and author Laurell K. Hamilton.

Disclaimer::: The world and laws belong to Laurell K. Hamilton The characters (Dela, Carolyn, Nick, etc..) belong to me.

I know this chapter is a lot shorter than the last one, but I have an overload of school work, so sorry. :D

Chapter 2

I pulled into my usual parking space right outside our office on Main Str. The small building used to be an antique store, complete with stone pillars upholding a balcony lined with a thin, metal fence. Ivy crawled in a graceful swirl up the pillars and fence, creating an artistic and all most whimsical look to the building. It had the timeless look of an old courthouse. A sign hung on the window, saying in pretty black letters, ' V.B. Private Detective Agency'. It listed our times and the business phone number under it.

9:00a.m. to 6:00 p.m. through weekdays, not open on Saturdays and Sundays. Even though we didn't work on the weekends, I frequently hung out around the building, filing papers, organizing folders, and admittedly decorating things. Carolyn fequently got on my case whenever she would walk into work on Monday and a new painting would be hanging on the wall.

After unlocking the door, I strolled in the front, sighing happily at the familiar setting. A long spiralling staircase lead up to the private discussion rooms where we talked in private with clients. A door on the left lead into a small office area, completely French decor with an ornate desk made of dark polished wood and intricate carvings of angels and demons. It was Carolyn's favorite room of the building. She'd wanted to paint the walls black as well, but I told her that that might create a dark atmosphere, and since we would be dealing with frantic loved ones or greiving family members, black was not a good idea.

So, we had settled on a soothing cream color with a black crown molding on the top and bottom. On the desk was a small silver name plate reading 'Carolyn Van Buren' as well as an Apple computer and two large black filing cabinents. The cabinets themselves were almost impervious to theft, with a state of the art lock that couldn't be picked or with anything. On the inside of the wooden exterior was an alloy mix of steel and silver, a lining that was practically indestructible. Nothing but the best for our clients.

Two comfortable armchairs sat opposite the desk, both dark velvet and soft. My favorite painting hung on the back wall to the right of the desk , portraying the an angel bending on the ground next to a gravestone, gold tears dripping down its sorrowful face.

After peering into the office and seeing no one, I looked into the door on the right. Inside was a small parlor, with a glass coffee table and a fluffy sky blue couch. the carpet was a gentle white color, the texture adnd look of a cloud. On the far right wall was a small mural. Painted with an amazing variety of blues was another angel, only its wings were a dark navy, almost 'd decided on the idea that angels would comfort the clients, but also, they were just pretty.

Sitting on the sofa was Carolyn Van Buren. Carolyn was a slim, tall woman with a long mane of silky straight blonde. She wore a light gray pants suit with matching heels. A light cotton blue blouse brought out the icy glint in her eyes. Holding the file on her crossed knees, a grin broke across her face. "Its about time you showed up. I was about to call the Station again, see if you'd checked in." She stood up, fake scowling. "What kept you?"

I shrugged, "Oh, you know, just some coffee at the Cabana, a chat with Maria, a sexy empathic psychic with a hot car...The usual." I said nonchalantly, walking over to the office.

"Did I just hear' sexy psychic?'" she asked following me into the office and promptly sitting in the armchair behind the desk. "Dish." she demanded, smiling pearly white teeth.

I sat across from her, and said "Does the name Advent Gardener mean anything to you?". I tossed his business card onto the desk watching her face become blank with surprise.

"Advent Gardener? The new hot shot P.I. from D.C.? "She snorted, twisting a long lock of hair around the fingers of her left hand. The large diamond of her wedding band glinted in the office light. Nick had spared no expense in buying the ring. "In other words, you fratrinized with the enemy. Our business competition. Figures." she smirked.

"Well, I didn't know who it was! At the time, he was just some random eye-candy!" I replied defensively. Reaching across the desk, I swiped the folder from her hands, opening the file. "More importantly, what's the low-down on this case?"

Carolyn sighed, shooting me an irritated look. "All I could really dig up was a list of different possible victims. Which you are going to look through and identify the vic."

She tapped her fingers against the desk, knowing I hated that sound. I glared at her, but she only smirked. "I did what I could, but without a name, its up to you. And 500 middle-aged men with mousy brown hair in the city of Augusta. Have at it."

It was my turn to sigh, rifling through the papers before standing up. "I'm going to look at them in the parlor. Do we have any local requests?" I asked, feet shuffling over to the cloud blue couch. I plopped down roughly onto the fluffly cushion, looking up at her while running a hand through my curls.

"None that I can't take care of. You handle this for now." Carolyn said sternly. "If not, you'll confuse cases together and will accidentally tell a client that their spouse is dead when they only came to us for a stolen watch. Like last time." She grimaced.

"One time, that happens one time, and I never hear the end of it." I huffed, placing my feet on the armchair so I could lie on the couch. She stood with her hands on her hips, giving me a look.

"One time is enough. Damn, that woman was so freaked she almost sued." She sighed, walking over to lean against the window.  
"Anyway, I was talking to Nick last night..." she began.

"Hey, now." I replied jokingly, flicking through the papers. "I don't want to hear about any...you know, talking dirty."

She turned and glared at me, trying not to become embarrased. "You know thats not what I was going to say."

"Yeah, but after last time, I'm not taking any chances." I said, waggling my eyebrows at her. "No one other than you two wants to play nurses and needles."

She picked up an pillow lying absently on the armchair and through it at me, her face flaming as red as a tomato. "Shut up, Dela!" she shreiked. "I can't believe you even-"  
Carolyn stopped, drawing in deep breathes before fixing a stern smile onto her still pink face. "You know what? This isn't about me. It's you this is going to be about."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Yeah? What is it?" I relaxed against the cozy couch, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Nick has a friend." she stated bluntly. I stared at her, confused.

"I'm sure Nick has many friends." I replied slowly.

She sighed, throwing her long hair over her shoulder. "A handsome friend."

I continued to stare, my brain beginning to see what she was getting at.

"A handsome, single doctor friend." she said impatiently.

"Caroyln!" I whined agitatedly. "This is the fifth time this month you've tried to set me up with a guy! I mean, seriously. Its October. I could understand bikini season, but seriously, Carolyn."

"Okay, okay, I know the last few ones haven't worked out, but this one's a real winner! I swear. He's perfectly your type." she insisted quickly, grabbing my arm and squeezing tightly.

I stared at her, the pout already forming on my face. Carolyn had that look on her face. The one that said she wouldn't lose this battle. I sat up, rolling the file loosely in my hands. She was still gripping my arm, so I shook it pointedly. She let go, still watching me, waiting for my arguement.

"Fine, fine. I'll meet him." I sighed, giving up. She grinned triumphantly, walking towards the door.

"Good. Because We're going out to dinner tonight. The four of us." And with that, she waltzed right out of the room. I heard a maniac laugh as she went upstairs and into the private offices.

I stared at the spot she had just vacated, agitation mixing with weariness. Of course we did.

* * *

You know the drill. Please Review!!!!!! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Summary

My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all?  
I saw them die, days before it happened.

_  
* Hi, FortuneTeller here. The characters in this story are all mine, but I'm using the world and laws that belong to the Anita Blake series and author Laurell K. Hamilton.

Disclaimer::: The world and laws belong to Laurell K. Hamilton The characters (Dela, Carolyn, Nick, etc..) belong to me.

Chapter 3

"So? What do you think?"Carolyn asked excitedly, leaning against the restuarant's bathroom marble counter. Her long blonde hair was pulled into an exquisite bun at the back of her neck and her make-up was perfect. Her ice blue dress stopped at her knees and the colour made her eyes glow. She was smiling bemusedly, tapping her nails on the sink.

I looked at her increduously through my long bangs, running my hand through them before drawing them behind my ear. "What do I think?! He's a dick. Like every other guy you've dragged me to awkwardly meet."

"What?! But whenever I looked over at you two, you were talking, I thought." She answered, surprised.

I snorted. "Yeah, _I_ was talking. He was mumbling and staring at my breasts." I grimaced at her, flicking water at her as I washed my hands. I'd opted that night to wear my silky little black dress and strapping heels. I'd spent a good ten minutes making sure my eyes looked sexily smokey. Clearly, the ensemble was too much for my date.

"Oh." Carolyn straightened up, throwing me an apologetic glance in the mirror. "Sorry, I wasn't paying much attention. It's just been so long since I was able to have a date with Nick and..." she trailed off, fiddling with her purse.

I sighed, my annoyance with her dampening somewhat. "I know, I just wish you wouldn't do this to me anymore. When I'm most unready to date, a guy will inevitably come along."

She grinned at that, tossing me a crinkly paper towel, but then a frown broke over her face."I don't quite understand though. At the hospital, he seemed really nice. Almost charismatic."

I dried my hands vigorously, then tossed the towel into the straw wastebasket. "Do you mind giving me a minute? I need to prepare for the next hour." I asked, letting my voice become grumpy near the end.

She laughed, nodded, and headed back out to her beau. Looking into the mirror, I could see the strain beginning to show between my eyebrows. Too much fake smiling and unimportant conversational topics can do that to a person.

My date had barely said a word,  
mainly nodding and agreeing with whatever I said, his eyes staring openly at my chest. It wasn't really the staring that bothered me. It was the way he stared. He didn't stare rudely or pervertedly. He almost seemed wary, as if he expected my boobs to attack.

I laughed at the thought, causing a woman who had entered the bathroom to stare at me oddly. My eyes stared back at her unabashedly, but my cheeks gave me away. A healthy blush had seeped onto my face. Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I walked out of the bathroom with my head heald high. I'd stopped caring about other people's opinions of me back in highschool.

The restuarant, La Vonni's Gallery, was like every other American made Italian restuarant. With random paintings, none big-names but still pretty, hung all over the walls and fake ivy was strung from the ceiling. Faint light came from the chandeliers, creating a somewhat romantic look to the black iron tables. People were eating joyously, laughing and chatting amiably. I smiled at the sight, until I caught sight of my table. I groaned internally, unable to ignore the fact that my date had caught sight of me instantly.

His name was Stephen Conners. Carolyn hadn't been lying about him being handsome what with his silky slicked back hair, strong jaw, and dark drowning brown eyes. He was wearing a suit that brought out the broadness of his shoulders. Had he been charismatic as Carolyn had said, I would have been wondering how it would feel to be enveloped in those arms, but no. He had to continue staring at my chest. I looked down for a second, wondering if maybe I had somehow missed a piece of food and it had dropped on my dress. Nope, perfectly normal. Great.

"Sorry I took so long." I smiled brightly,sitting down in my chair, and hoping the hollow boredom in my mind didn't come out through my voice. His eyes flashed up to mine for a second, and an unidentifiable look ran through them.

Then he nodded his head, eyes downcast again. Our food was almost completely diminished by now, and I no longer had a distraction. "So, Stephen, tell me a little about yourself. You're an optomologist, right?" I asked, tired of the silence.

He nodded meekly, doing his best never to meet my eyes.

"Well, how is that? Is it interesting?" I pressured, only feeling a little embarrased by my lame phrasing of those words.

He shrugged, infuriatingly silent as his eyes darted from my chest to my chin and to the other people in the restuarant. I swallowed the urge to lean across the table and crack his head against the window pane. I would bet all my savings he wouldn't make a sound.

Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms, affectively blocking his view. Still, he continued to look there, which led me to believe he wasn't staring particularly at my chest, just not at my eyes. If anything else, that just made me more frustrated. What's wrong with this guy? What's so wrong with my eyes that he can't look at them? He does it for a living, for goodness sakes!

I leaned forward quickly, reaching out and effectively grasping his hand in a vice-tight grip. His eyes jumped up to mine surprised. "Are my eyes so unappealing that you can't bear to look me in the face?" I hissed, finally fed up with all of this crap. All the blind dates, all the awkward silences, all of it.

Stephen Conners stared at me, as if entranced. His mouth opened, shut, then opened again, letting out a sigh so quiet I almost thought he hadn't done it at all. The sigh surprised me. He leaned forward as well, shocking me further. Then he finally spoke, his voice dark, husky.

"You have the most beautiful eyes." He whispered, his long lashes touching his cheeks as his lids lowered to half-mast. I felt like someone had told me they'd killed my dog. Shocked, slightly horrified, yet unable to leave the subject till I knew exactly what had happened to my dog.

"What?" I asked incredulous, careful to keep my voice down.

He leaned forward more, his eyes slightly glazed over, barely breathing. "Beautiful." he sighed, sounding bemused. "Green like the fields of Ireland, emerald as envy." Stephen's voice was light, flowing like a song.

It didn't really occur to me that he was complimenting my eyes rather cheesily poetically, just that his full, soft looking lips were nearing mine quickly. And the fact that my traitorous lips were almost welcoming their arrival.

"Woah, what's hoing on here?" Nick's deep voice asked jokingly. He and Carolyn had reached their table, him looking at his friend encouragingly while Carolyn stared at me confused.

I blinked confusedly, leaning away instantly. Stephen looked almost dissappointed, turning to his friend and smiling. We paid and left the restaurant in a blur of motion. All I really remember was that Stephen Conners kissed my hand before taking off in his Lexus, leaving me more confused than before.

After recieving a look from Carolyn telling me we would talk tomorrow at the office, I hurried home, threw my pajamas on and crawled into bed, allowing myself to finally think about what had happened.

Was I seriously going to let Stephen Conners kiss me after he had been acting really standoffish and odd all dinner long? And what was up with his sudden declaration about my eyes? I mean, he was an optomologist. A handsome optomologist.

I shook my head vigorously, turning off my lamp. I'd tell Carolyn about this tomorrow. I fell asleep, seeing both Advent's deep blue eyes and Stephen's dark black ones.

* * *

Review, please!! This is probably the length I'll be updating from now on. I'm slightly in over my head. XD


	4. Chapter 4

Summary

My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all?  
I saw them die, days before it happened.

_  
* Hi, FortuneTeller here. The characters in this story are all mine, but I'm using the world and laws that belong to the Anita Blake series and author Laurell K. Hamilton.

Disclaimer::: The world and laws belong to Laurell K. Hamilton The characters (Dela, Carolyn, Nick, etc..) belong to me.

Chapter 4

It was barely 7:00 when I breezed into the office. The sun was beginning its rise to the east, cresting over old-fashioned brick buildings in a glorious orange glow. Over to the west, the sky was still dark, deep midnight, reaching out between the air and clashing with the sun. A spatter of clouds drifted amiably through the colors, softening their vibrancy into a more gentle picture.

As a child, my grandmother would drag my siblings and me out of bed to watch the sunrise with her. We would groan and whine till she shushed us sharply, promising to tell us a story if we would shut up. Grandmother Betty's story's always consisted of foolish things she did "in her youth". Her stories were hilarious and never failed to end in a moral. "And that, children, is why you never mow the lawn without shoes. Just ask your grandpa."

I let myself reminisce before the pain had a chance to ruin the moment. Sighing jadedly, I walked through open the office, turning my back on the empty street. After turning on the lights, I threw myself onto the couch in the parlor and pulled out the manila folder. I'd spent half the night laboriously going through the files before I'd found the man from my nightmare.

Jim Bredison, 46 year old, European-caucasian. He was a Data-Programmer at Dan-Kin Computer Corp. Clean as a Catholic Priest. The only thing notable about this guy was his subscription to Humans First, a radical vampire-hate group.

I sighed, looking down at his picture from my languid position on the couch. He was a wimpy sort of man, complete with receding mouse-brown hair and hunched shoulders. Everything about him screamed single office worker who lived in a lone apartment next to a Mini-Market. So, why was a loner like Bredison dusting away in an alley of the harbor? And what was in his briefcase?

I lifted up off the couch, shuffling over to the phone. The office was chilly and a draft blew through the creases under the door. I shivered, drawing my hands back into the sleeves of my light blue UME hoodie. I'd opted for comfort rather than style today, though Maria had practically pounced on me when I'd worn it to the diner. My dark blue jeans, though crisp and stiff-looking, were my most comfortable pair as well as my most flattering. Coupled with durable white Saucony tennis shoes, I was ready for anything. Including the phone-call to Sergeant Lorand, the local police chief.

For mundane investigations, Carolyn and I didn't call the police unless we needed some information, which stopped happening after we invested in a beautiful new computer, complete with DNA forensics simulators and criminal profiles. Don't ask me how Carolyn convinced the courts to give us a password into the criminal database software. I'm afraid to know the answer.

Anyway, we always called the police when investigating a murder. What's more, they trust in my psychic nightmares. Or at least Sergeant Lorand did. I still find dream-catchers hanging from the office mailbox and from the door handles.

It ringed three times before a woman's voice answered me sleepily. "Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, secretary Willow Branson speaking." she yawned.

I laughed into the phone, crossing over to the mini-kitchen in the back of the office beside the bathroom. "It's Dela. Can you put me through to Sergeant Lorand?"

Willow yawned into the phone again, tapping keys noise on her desk computer. A few moments of those obnoxious tapping noises and I knew why the RPIT boys were always so anxious to leave the station.

"I'm sorry, Dela, Sergeant Lorand isn't in yet. He is sure to pull in within the hour, though. Shall I have him call you up when he gets here?" she replied sleepily. I could practically hear her head fall against the desk.

"Yes, please do." I replied.

The dial tone sounded through the phone before I'd even finished speaking. In my mind's eye, I could see Willow's head drop back onto the desk, asleep before it hit the table.

Chuckling, I made a cup of steaming coffee, wondering if I wanted to head down to the Cabana for a wholesome breakfast. And maybe some candy...eye candy...

Cursing myself, I stomped out into the parlor. My face felt hot as I sat down on the couch, unable to help remembering the previous night's dreams. Advent Gardener and Stephen Conners had played starring roles in my subconscious last night, a fact I'd take to my grave. This had been the first time I'd dreamed about a guy, or rather two, since my freshman year of high school.

After my family's deaths, I'd focused all my effort on college and my career. Carolyn used to berate me about staying home to study for Finals when there was a huge frat party four blocks down. When test results came in, she reluctantly swore to study with me instead of party with half naked college boys.

I stood up restlessly, walking over to the window and sipping my coffee quietly. It only took me a millisecond to duck back down behind the curtain, dropping my coffee mutely on the table and drawing my Raptor.

I watched the figure cross the street, shoulders hunched and head down. Judging by the build, I guessed 6 ft. 4, give or take, male. Couldn't be more than 25 in body state. He walked with the aching natural grace of a panther. A prima ballerina would have torn her hair out in jealousy. In other words, he was preternatural. Most likely werewolf instead of vampire.

He stumbled on a protruding piece of concrete, one hand shooting out impeccably fast to catch a hold of a street lamp. Werewolf.

My eyes followed his path up the stairs to our office building, watched him peer into the window I was currently manning. He was clearly a college aged boy and a handsome one at that. Straight black hair hung into his eyes, which glowed

an eery green against the ivory skin and strong cheekbones. A cleft dimpled his chin, severing his young face.

I flicked off the safety, logically remembering that I had personally watched over the installment of silver coated windows, but feeling nervous regardless. The boy's eyes suddenly jumped up to mine, as if he could see me through the black glass. The ominous green seemed to swirl in his irises, hinting at an unnatural amount of power. He was an alpha.

We stared at each other, knowing. I flicked the safety back on carefully, watching him cock his head at the soft click. His shoulders straightened and he reached forward to tap the glass. I waved at him, wordlessly cautioning him to not touch the window.

He blinked, retracting his hand, and tilting his head towards the door.

I walked over to the office door and unlatched the five different kinds of security locks I'd placed strategically around the silver plated panel. Never hurts to be cautious.

He stood just in front of the place mat, fixing the baggy hoodie and equally baggy jeans. The werewolves who were strong enough tried to blend in with society. This kid had opted for baggy clothing. It hadn't worked though. It didn't take a preternatural expert

to see the well defined muscles and barely contained power.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely, not bothering to hide the gun held loosely at my side. I rubbed index finger along the trigger, not threatening, just subtly releasing the stiffness in my hand.

He stared at me a moment, taking in my clothes and like a traditional frat boy, taking stock of the athletic build of my body. A lazy grin stretched across his face.

"Miss, you've already helped me plenty." He drawled smoothly, shoving his thumbs into his pockets.

Ignoring the innuendo, I asked, "What do you want?" Inwardly flinching after I realized what I'd said.

I held up a hand, catching him before he could get a word in edgewise. "Sorry. What are you doing here?"

He grinned cockily, the dimple in his chin flaring to life. "I know something you don't know." He sung.

Frowning, I scoffed, "What, how to guzzle a keg without puking?"

He continued to grin impishly, causing annoyance to flare through my system.

"I know who murdered that computer geek out by the harbor."


	5. Chapter 5

Summary

My name is Adelaide Veela, Dela for short. My family died in a fire that destroyed our home and all our lives, leaving me the only survivor. The worst part of all?  
I saw them die, days before it happened.

_  
* Hi, FortuneTeller here. The characters in this story are all mine, but I'm using the world and laws that belong to the Anita Blake series and author Laurell K. Hamilton.

Disclaimer::: The world and laws belong to Laurell K. Hamilton The characters (Dela, Carolyn, Nick, etc..) belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 5

"So, you're trying to convince me that Jim Bredison, the momma's boy, has been traficking psychics to the Master of the City?" I asked, my skepticism so plain in my voice it was insulting.

"Yes." The werewolf answered, taking a satisfied draw from his coffee cup. His name was Greydon. He was a college student at UME, majoring in Investigative Journalism, and had been a reporter on sight at several other crime scenes in the city. That's how he knew who I was, he said. I might have believed him if I hadn't been throwing and receiving bull shit for years now.

"How did you even know I was looking into Jim Bredison?" I asked, schooling my face into a blank look. I hadn't yet mastered the 'cop eyes' look, but I had definitely made progress. My expression was calm, only my eyes and the hand still wrapped around the Kimber Raptor betrayed my suspicion.

"A little bird told me." Greydon replied sarcastically, his green eyes flashing. His full lips had curved into a slightly mocking smile. Leaning back on the couch, he stretched his legs under the coffee table, and fixed me with a challenging look.

"Oh? What happened to it?" I asked. I didn't know who the 'bird' was, especially considering the only people who knew about this case was Carolyn and me. And probably Nick…

"What?" Greydon asked, his head tilted slightly in confusion.

"The bird." I replied.

"Oh." He stopped, a considering look crossing his face. A large hand came up to run through that straight black hair, giving me an unblocked veiw of the inhuman eyes underneath. Even two yards away I could see the gold rim of his irises, the forest green almost swirling in his eyes. It was unnerving to say the least.

"The bird is fine." Greydon replied strongly, his tone telling me more than his words. This 'bird' was probably a friend, and close too. So, he hadn't hurt anyone to get this information…

I didn't like the idea, but it was even more probable the informant had been Nick. Afterall, not only were they both still in college (Nick, atleast, still was, even if he was already the best), there were few fraternities at UME. Only one way to find out, I guess.

"What fraternity are you in?" I asked, feining innocent curiousity.

Greydon froze, his eyes sharpening on me, jaw clenching. His reaction was enough.

I sighed, slumping against the armchair and looking out of the parlor window. Nick had been the informant. He didn't know I hadn't had a chance to talk with the police and had probably only wanted to help out a fellow friend with a good story. I'd have to tell Carolyn to not tell her husband about the cases until after we'd contacted the police. It hadn't been a problem till now.

"Nick Van Buren?" My voice sounded tired even to me.

Greydon judged my reaction and had figured it was useless to lie. He nodded stiffly and said, "Yeah, it was Nick, but he didn't know-" He stopped abruptly, catching himself.

"Didn't know what? That his old college buddy wasn't a reporter anymore and had contracted lycanthropy?" I asked, my voice deceptively mild.

Surprisingly, his shoulders relaxed and he draped a long arm over the back of the couch. Greydon blinked those feral eyes at me, taking a gulp from his coffee. "I knew you wouldn't fall for it." He drawled.

The Kimber Raptor was fully in my hand now, pointed directly at his chest, my finger poised on the trigger. From this distance, I could easily kill him, probably before his inhuman speed could stop me. If this fact bothered him, he didn't let it show. He just looked at me from guarded eyes, waiting for my move.

"Who are you working for? Is this pack business or personal?" The werewolven pack here in Augusta wasn't a major power like the ones in Memphis, Tennessee or in St. Louis, Missouri. They were strong and numerous, but for the most part didn't cause more trouble than human criminals did. The vampires were the troublesome ones, but the werewolves…

"Its business, but not pack business...yet." Greydon said, his mouth curving into a smile. He wasn't relaxed anymore, his power causing the air to become hot. I shifted the gun more firmly in the direction of his heart, judging his eyes for a hint of an attack.

He looked at me from under that silky curtain of hair, his eyes gleaming. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and my intuition wordlessly told me that he was very powerful and that if I wasn't careful, I'd be breakfast.

And then, it all went away. The power deflated like a popped balloon, bringing a gasp from my throat. The air cleared out as well as the slight rining in my ears. Greydon lounged on the couch across from me, a lazy grin stretching across his handsome face. I kept the gun trained on his chest, though my arms began to ache in the joints. It's never a good idea to hold a gun straight armed for too long if you're not putting it to use.

"Calm down, Dela, I didn't come here to hurt you. I work for Advent." He propped his feet on the table and let loose a good yawn. I could see that his teeth were a little bit sharper than normal. It happens to lycanthropes who spend too much time in animal form.

I gaped at him, loosing the armed position and slumping backward. "Advent? Advent Gardener sent you here?" Anger suddenly ripped through me like a chainsaw. "So, what, he's going to try to take my case? Did he send you over here thinking I'd give you information for your little 'report'?"

I was seething with rage, so pissed I wondered if steam was coming from my ears. Greydon sat up slowly, shaking his head.

"No, no, he wanted me to talk to you about joining forces. It was my idea to lie." He answered earnestly.

"Joining forces? Why should I join forces with him?" I asked incredulously. Advent was new in town. I'd gain nothing from his help, unless he truly had a psychic power. Even then, I still wouldn't need it. I already had psychic ability.

"He can investigate the vampires better than you can." Greydon replied, a proud tone ringing true from his voice.

"He's new here! You're new here!" I pointed out. "You don't have any idea what I can or can't do." I said this last part with a glare so cold that by rights it should have frozen him to death.

I stood up and strode to the kitchen, wrenching open the dishwasher and shoving the cup in. I turned around, and Greydon was there, blocking the doorway. He was standing straight now, his broad shoulders completely filling the small space.

"We know way more than you do about crimes like this. For one, I'm lukoi! And Advent can get us a meeting with the Master of the city, if you help." He said, putting his cup on the counter.

"What's your point? What makes you think the Master of the City will meet with your little Scooby gang if we team up?" I asked incredulously, letting my face show him how skeptical I was.

Greydon was silent for a moment. He stared at me, his hands curling into fists. Then he spoke.

"Because Advent is this area's new Ulfric."

* * *

Sorry for the late update!! I had two essays to right and soccer practice. And I know Advent didn't make an appearance, but he was talked about!!! That counts for something!! Right?


	6. Chapter 6

**I know it's been a really long time since I updated….I will try to do better. A lot of things have been going on and I just couldn't handle it… But here.**

Chapter 6

I stared at him in disbelief. Advent Gardener was Augusta's new pack leader? For how long? Turning to the calendar of the wall beside the door, I saw the small full moon sign under October 12. One week ago.

"We've been in town for about a month."Greydon said quietly. "Followed the lead here, then we decided to stay in town for a few years." He watched me cautiously, examining every move. "Of course, Advent had to challenge the old Ulfric here to enter the pack…and I had to fight my way through the others to be his right hand, but that was a piece of cake."

Greydon grinned smugly, shifting his long legs to rest on the floor. He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees. His swirling green eyes fixed on my own.

"Yeah? You must've healed pretty fast; to have cured all those battle wounds from just a week ago." I said curiously. A werewolf's healing potential was also an indication of his power. And Greydon had already shown me he was powerful.

A wolfish grin stretched across his face. His eyes glittered. "Yeah, a few hours, tops."

I looked away, out the window and across the street. The sun was almost out from behind the horizon. The street was still empty, the fog dissipating quickly under the gaze of the sun.

I turned back to Greydon. "So, you're telling me, the Advent Gardener, psychic detective, new Ulfric of Augusta, wants to team up with me, psychic detective, human, Dela Veela."

Greydon lifted an eyebrow. "Yes." He answered shortly.

"You're also saying, in return, he can guarantee a meeting with the Master of the City. Together."

Greydon shifted lazily. "Yes." He answered, his voice sounding bored, though his eyes were everything but.

"Now, why the hell would I want to do that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Greydon stared at me for a minute, shocked. "What- what do you mean?" He sputtered incredulously.

I smiled a little, pleased that I'd finally thrown him off guard. "If the Master of the City is suspected of illegal psychic trafficking, while the hell would I, a psychic, want to meet with him?"

Greydon looked shocked for a minute, his mouth hanging open. Then his expression became embarrassed, his cheeks turning a light pink. "Uh…Uh…" He sputtered. He looked pretty adorable. But that's beside the point, I told myself.

Greydon recovered quickly, though, and said, "We would protect you. During the meeting. Of course."

"Yes, because I feel so safe with you already." I deadpanned.

I stood up and crossed to the door, turning back to see him standing up and looking at me quietly, his chiseled face still slightly colored.

"I think you should probably go." I said, my eyes bright with amusement, despite my words. "And next time Advent wants to propose a business arrangement that could get me killed, tell him he should come see me himself and I'll introduce him to my Kimber Raptor real nice and polite-like." I finished smiling sweetly.

Greydon looked at me, his feral green eyes assessing, then he swept from the building, looking back only to blow me a kiss.

**Advent**

The sun was up and well in the sky by the time Greydon made it back to the office. I sat sprawled in the arm chair in the library of the high-class hundred thousand dollar office building, our latest and the one we would probably have the longest. The walls of the library were stacked high with books encased in lush mahogany wood shelves. Books of local lore and reports of the most recent psychic trafficking victims were stacked all around me on the floor and on the tables.

I'd been waiting on Greydon to return, wondering what Dela's answer had been. Dela Veela, private investigator, psychic. One of the sexiest women I'd ever seen. Sweet, forest green eyes. Smooth, peach colored skin. And the hottest body on the eastern coast. With an adorable pixie nose, fine high cheekbones, and a small, delicate, but incredibly athletic build, Dela had captured my attention as well as the wolf's. The only thing harder to fight than my own desires are the wolf's. And when they're the same thing…well, things could get a little hairy.

"Well, I'll tell you this, Advent. She's a firecracker." Greydon's voice sounded from the doorway. I turned to him, tamping down the wolf's agitation at his words.

"Yeah, I know." I replied mildly, though I infused the note of caution in my voice.

His eyebrows lifted at the sound, but he said nothing, crossing over the carpet to crouch in front of me, his head bent over my outstretched hand, a wolf demonstrating loyalty and submission to his Ulfric. This was a sign of great respect from Greydon, considering his alpha power and status in the pack. We had been friends forever, but he had never challenged me for dominance. Even if he had, though, the victor would have still been me.

"What did she say?" I asked him curiously. I had straightened up when he had entered the room and now reached for the coffee cup on the side table, sipping its lukewarm contents.

"Well, we talked for awhile, and I believe the answer was a definite no."He said, his lips forming a grimace.

I frowned, but motioned for him to continue.

He sighed. "The newspaper-college boy thing didn't work. She'd known the second she saw I was a werewolf. She knew before I'd even begun 'interviewing'." He snorted.

"I knew lying wouldn't work, Greydon."I gave him a disapproving look.

He nodded, abashed. "I know, I shouldn't have tried, but I'd hoped it might work. It certainly worked on Nick." He grimaced again. I could sense the guilt he felt, lying to his old college buddy.

"You could've told him the truth, Grey."I reminded him quietly.

He shrugged. "I thought about it, but I just… don't want him to look at me differently. Like the others." Greydon said quietly.

"Anyway," He continued. "She realized who the leak was and promptly drew her gun on me when she felt my power surge. Dela really likes coffee, looks adorable in a UME hoodie and drop dead mouthwatering in the butt-hugging jeans she was wearing today. Hmmm… what else… Oh, she asked, and quote, 'Why the hell would I want to meet with the Master of the City who is currently suspected of psychic trafficking when I am, in fact, a psychic?'." He finished looking at me.

The wolf growled in territorial anger, while I struggled to damp down my own and focus on the last part of his statement.

"We would protect her. You told her that, right?" I questioned.

"Yeah, but she doesn't trust us. Which makes sense." He replied.

I didn't say anything, thinking. The rational human part of me understood her hesitation and caution. The wolf inside me growled indignantly, irrationally wanting Dela near to keep her safe and close.

The wolf had never reacted like this to a person before and it was making me worried. Protective, almost… possessive.

I turned to Greydon, frowning worriedly. "Guess it's time to schedule an appointment at the V.B. Private Detective Agency."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Dela**

"You absolutely have to accept his interview, Dela." Cara insisted for the third time in the past twenty minutes alone. Not bothering to look up from where my delicious powdered sugar scone sat on my plate, I snorted indifferently.

"Why? Because he's interesting? Drop dead, drool-on-your-shoes, walking sexy werewolf? No."

"That sounds like a pretty fantastic reason to me. And I'm the married one." She parried, a slim blonde eyebrow rising. Today Cara wore a beautiful red silk blouse with a sinuous silver beaded dragon curling around the delicately laced edge. Coupled with a matching skirt and high-heeled silver stilettos, she was the picture of elegance. Her long blonde hair was twisted to one side in a tasteful French twist. Delicate diamonds hung from her ear to match the heart-shaped necklace seated evenly in the center of her chest.

She had just come from an early brunch with her hubby's coworkers. Nick had had to return to work after an emergency call from the ER, so Cara had agreed to meet me at a quaint café a few blocks from the expensive five-star restaurant. She looked a little out of place in the casual, peaceful atmosphere of the café, like a sleek manta ray in a small pond of coy fish.

A red-haired waitress danced up to offer us anything else, her crystal blue eyes focused on Cara.

A twinge of anger had me grimacing into my coffee. It's not as if I was dressed in rags or something. Looking down at myself, I refused to feel the least bit inferior to my friend's sophisticated attire.

I had forgone elegant to look cute (super-mega adorable as Marina would say). I wore an Omiru style mellow green sundress with matching leather high-heeled sandals. The bodice of the sundress was carefully beaded with dark green jewels in a row of flowers that lead to a cinched waste band that showed off my tiny waist to perfection. The gentle green of the dress brought out the forested jade color of my eyes. My curls hung freely around my shoulders with small braids intermixing the ringlets. Considering I was the type of woman to wear a slim silver knife in a thigh holster disguised under the skirt of the sundress, the outfit was decidedly feminine for me. Must be an off day.

"No, we're fine." I replied mildly, covering my annoyance with what I hoped was polite indifference. She looked at me silently, before bouncing away, her high ponytail vigorously hopping in time to her jumps.

Cara sighed, looking at me over her cup of chamomile tea. "She acted almost as if I was your mother or something. Must be how tiny, portable sized you are. Like a doll." She snickered.

I sighed, glancing away in time to see a dark haired man leave the café, his long black coat billowing behind him. A thought nudged the back of my mind, a feeling of familiarity stealing over me. My eyes sharpened on the back of the man, but my attention was diverted before the thought could mature itself.

"So, anyway, I am partner in this business, so I say you're meeting with the luscious Mr. Gardener. At the very least, Dela, I don't think it'd be a good idea to snub the new Ulfric of the Augusta pack, k?" She said, rising from her chair smoothly and shifting her purse onto her slim shoulder.

Grudgingly acknowledging her point, I stood and threw a ten dollar bill onto the table and moved with her to the entrance of the café. If I was honest with myself, the idea of meeting with Advent again in a small enclosed room sent a thrill down my back and a very inappropriate shiver down between my thighs. Shaking off the phantoms, I turned to her, feeling the soft swing of my gold hoops against my jaw.

"I'm heading back to the office to check the messages and invoices. Anything you want me to do while I'm there? I'm, of course, assuming you're going to the hospital to moon over your gorgeous and successful husband all the while hissing at his female admirers." I grinned cheekily, dodging as she swung her purse at me.

Glaring at me, she replied, "Not that it's _any_ of your business, but I am heading to the hospital. And you have an appointment at 1:00."

"What? But it's already 12:00! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I fumbled hurriedly in my purse for the keys to my darling Impala.

"I didn't want you to have time to get out of it." She smirked at me, waiting for the words to hit.

I blinked at her, not wanting to believe the feeling of foreboding creeping up my spine. "You didn't-"

"Oh, I _so_ did." She grinned evilly, spinning around to her cherry Corvette parked by a neighboring clothes shop. "Say hello to the delectable werewolves for me, yeah?"

**Advent**

Greydon and I sat patiently on the soft blue couch, both of us taking in the room with the eyes of practiced predators. Not a camera in sight. Judging by its owner's honest personality, there probably wasn't a camera inside the building, but outside there were quite a few video cameras lurking in the shadows of the columns and bushes.

The room was peaceful, calm-inspiring, a Zen of meditation on an otherwise busy street. All was quiet, which meant sound proof walls and linings. I could smell the faint acerbic bite of silver that lined the windows. More so than that, however, I could smell her scent. Dela.

Attempting not to be too obvious, I filled my lungs with the sweet scent. Her scent was a gentle mix of soft vanilla and soothing lavender. The wolf growled. No, _purred_ in response to it. I was calmed by her fragrance, soothed by it, and yet filled with that longing, that desire to be near her, to experience it in its entirety, its majesty.

My muscles relaxed into the couch, eyes closing, focusing. Feeling the peace of her phantom presence. Until the thought crossed my mind that this was incredibly unusual. Never had my wolf instincts been this lax, this content to wait. Too content to wait.

I opened my eyes to find Greydon had stopped pacing room in front of the window to stare at me in slight confusion. He too had noticed the uncharacteristic display of ease in relatively foreign territory. We stared at each other until he looked down at my shoulder, acknowledging my dominance, before stiffening, his head turning toward the door.

My instincts focused solely on the small women coming through the door with a tornado of impatience and anger. Dela stopped at the entrance to the parlor with her hands defiantly on her hips, a pout on her sweet Cupid's bow lips.

The wolf purred. Dela wore a delectable sundress that laid bare the smooth skin of her shoulders. The light green of the dress made her eyes shine with the deep woodland emerald of mountainous trees, framed by long dark eyelashes. Her figure, finely muscled but impossibly feminine, was curved and womanly. Those silky ringlets that danced around her shoulders made his fingers itch with the urge to run through them. The sundress ended a little above her knees, showcasing her delicate calves and ankles, and the strapping leather high-heels complementing her legs to perfection.

She looked touchable, sweet, fragile, and yet her strength and willpower shone like beacons through her eyes and personality. I had to fight with myself to not give into that urge to shelter her, protect her from the world. But seeing her, with all of her sweet curves and delicate boned femininity, what with her tiny wrists and arms and shoulders… those perfect breasts, easily a handful…

I mentally shook myself, quickly masking the desire that burned, scorched my body. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to drag her into my arms and _mark her. _

"I thought I'd see you eventually, but really, one day later? A little pushy, don't you think?" Dela snapped, her arms crossing over her torso. I fought to ignore the way that simple action pushed those delectable mounds higher, more open onto her chest, and focused on her words, her mood.

"It's nice to see you again as well, Adelaide Veela."I smirked slightly, watching the blush that accompanied her full name. Greydon had moved from the window onto the couch, slouching artfully and watching Dela with a pseudo-lazy expression on his face.

She huffed, her emerald eyes pinning a glare onto Greydon before shifting the glare to me. "Mr. Gardener, Greydon. What a pleasure to see you both again." Her voice was sarcastic enough to bring a chuckle from Greydon.

Dela moved to sit in the matching blue armchair, prompting me to sit as well. I slid into the neighboring armchair, a mere yard away from mouthwatering form. She moved to cross her legs to maintain modesty, showcasing her legs. My instincts shifted, noticing Greydon's eyes following the graceful line of her shins to her leather strapped ankles. The wolf growled possessively, a small wave of power escaping the tight rein I always held on myself.

Greydon immediately looked at me, before shifting back onto the couch, focusing completely on her face in an impassive expression. The wolf was mollified, but still wary of Greydon's interest, no matter how miniscule. Dela was ours. Wait, what?

"So, if I remember correctly, you want to join forces, visit the psychotic Master of the City, pool information, and catch the murderers?" Dela stated, sounding almost bored. She clearly did not think much of our abilities to solve crimes or formulate plans. What she didn't know was that she only knew the general plan. We had already come up with multiple scenarios, not to mention I had the pack keep their eyes open as well.

"Though that summarization was grossly generalized, yes, essentially that's the main plan." I answered shortly, pride flaming up in response to her skepticism.

She rolled her eyes. "As I already explained to Frat-boy over there, I have no intention of placing myself in danger in the form of going to see a powerful vampire who likes to kidnap psychics and drain them dry." She deadpanned, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You would be in no danger with us protecting you, I assure you." I spoke, my voice deepening slightly. The wolf had bristled with rage at the idea that she felt it couldn't protect her. Judging by the faint alarm that crossed through her eyes, I knew that my beast was a little too close to the surface, the blue in my eyes blazing with heat. Greydon stiffened on the couch, reacting in response to my power.

Carefully, I let my power leak out to her, watching her shock, then her consideration and wariness, followed by recognition. She recognized the power inside me, the immense strength I fought to control every hour of every day. I wanted there to be no question of my ability to protect her. To protect my…


End file.
